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Chapter Text

“Shit,” Yuji hissed as he cupped his nose, stumbling backwards. “My nose!” 

A piercing, high-pitched tone consumed all of Yuji’s senses. His words were muffled to his own ears. It was like cotton had been shoved into them and pressed against his eardrums in hopes it would burst open. The blood dripping down his face was hot, leaving a scalding feeling wherever it touched. He brought his hand away from his nose and felt blood cascade off it. His legs warmed as blood soaked into his pants. 

He blinked rapidly as he tried to clear his vision. He looked at his hand, watching as the pool of blood gathered there drained. His hand doubled as his vision swam. 

He shuffled backwards until his shins were pressed against his bedframe. 

He panted, unable to breathe through his nose anymore. His breath hitched, and it caused him to curl up on himself as he broke down into coughs. He fell onto his bed, sitting up to hunch over the side. He inhaled in an attempt to regain a hold on his breathing and ended up choking painfully on blood that trickled down his throat. 

Before he knew it, his surroundings dissolved into unintelligible static.

“Sukuna-sama,” Uraume addressed, breaking him out of thought. In their hand lay a tray filled to the brim with food. “I couldn’t find any of the poems they promised.”

He crossed his arms. His clothes were still warm from blood, but he had long since cleaned his face and hands. “Sugawara Michizane’s descendants lied outright then. For a family of poets, you’d think they would embellish their words instead, how disappointing.” 

He had hoped for at least a single poem or a letter that they kept. It didn't have to be finished writing, just something Sugawara Michizane wrote himself. He might have spared some of their lives if it had been enough to satisfy him. Instead, every descendant that lived in the estate had their bodies bled for butchering. Almost every descendant, he corrected himself, he had slaughtered the ones that had offended him, and he was sure some of them managed to escape in the chaos. 

Should he chase after them? It could fill up his time, but would it be fun?

“Who ran?” He asked as Uraume set the tray on the table before him. 

“A few children ranging from eight to twelve,” Uraume replied, head bowed. They stepped off the dais and onto the tatami mat below to sit. “Do you want me to follow after them?”

“No, they're of no consequence,” He chuckled. “Perhaps in the future they’ll come to kill me, to correct the previous generation’s mistakes. That is, if those children don't grow up to be cowards like they were.” 

He surveyed the spread of foods in front of him. Rice, soup, grilled fish, dumplings, dried duck meat, sake, and a thick cut of meat. Uraume’s cooking skills were unmatched, and the meal promised to be delicious. The very smell of it made saliva pool in his mouth. 

“The Biwa girl’s thigh meat,” Uraume said. “I saw that you took a liking to her. I was able to drain the rest of the blood from her body. I’m marinating the rest of her now.”

He picked up the meat and bit into it. He chewed it slowly, savoring the taste. It was soft and buttery, yet still had a charred taste to it. 

It was perfect, and nothing else could compare. 

He couldn't help but sob. Fat, hot tears ran down his cheek as his body shook. He sniffled, trying to contain the snot threatening to escape. He could hardly believe what was happening. 

“I'm so grateful,” He choked on his sobs. “Hes so beautiful, thank you, thank you!” 

Yuji slept peacefully, swaddled in red blankets. He was such a large baby with the chubbiest cheeks Jin had ever seen. It was almost impossible to believe that this small life in his arms came from him and his wife. He made this—they made this—and Yuji was warm and real. 

“Oh, stop that now,” His wife chided. “Give him here.” 

He obediently went to her side. But he hesitated to place their son in her arms. Pregnancy had taken a toll on her. He wasn't sure if she even possessed the strength to hold their son. She looked so fragile and thin now, despite the huge meals she ate every day. Her hands were bony, her cheeks were hollowed, and there were often days she couldn't get out of bed. But it had been worth it in her eyes. It was all so that their son could be born healthy, no matter the cost.

Kaori and Jin had always longed for a child. He would do anything to make their dream come true.

She clicked her tongue as he hesitated. “Did I not carry him for over nine months? Give him here.” 

He sniffled but did as she said.  She smiled, her bony hand running through Yuji’s short hair. She lifted him up and leaned down to press their foreheads together. Yuji shifted in his sleep, pressing closer to her scarred face. 

“Hello, Yuji,” She said softly. “I’m your mommy. I managed to give birth to you, even though you did your best trying to eat me from the inside out.”

“He was just born, and you’re already scolding him?” Jin hoarsely laughed, wiping away his tears.

“Not scolding, it's just the truth,” She responded, laying Yuji’s head on her chest. “There's nothing wrong with being a little greedy. I want him to take as much as he needs from me. He deserves it.” 

“He deserves everything we can give him,” Jin nodded, pulling up a seat next to her bed. 

“Everything,” She repeated. She shifted Yuji to one arm and reached out towards Jin with the other. Her hand rested on his neck, and her thumb traced his pulse. “I don't think there's anything he doesn't deserve, right?”

“You’re right,” He responded.

Her hands gripped his neck tighter, choking him completely. She sat on top of him, leaning over so that their foreheads were touching. 

“You understand why I'm doing this, don't you?” She asked softly. Her face was kind and serene, but her grip was unforgiving. 

Jin’s body twitched with suppressed laughter. His hands shot up not to throw her off—he would never—but to hold onto her once more. He gripped her hips, holding her in place. 

“That's it,” She praised. Her smile was all teeth, unlike Kaori’s gentle expressions. It’s what he loved about both his wives. “Just let it happen.”

He tapped her hips, signaling for her to loosen up. She did, just enough that he could speak. 

“Use the recipe I left in the fridge.” His voice was wrecked. “Promise?”

“You’ve planned ahead for this? That's why I like you so much.” She laughed, long and hard. Her grip tightened once she quieted. She leaned in and kissed him. Jin could barely muster up the strength to return it. She drew back, her face closed off. “I love you, Jin.” 

Jin wasn't quite sure if that was true. 

One of his hands left her hip, falling limp. 

His hand tangled in the sheets, and he panicked. He grabbed onto the neck of a beer bottle and swung. 

The beer bottle smashed against his mother’s face. Glass shattered everywhere, raining down on his face. He closed his eyes, turning his face away. He heard her fall off the bed and hit the floor with a loud thump. He hiccuped, paralyzed with fear.

He didn't want to look. 

He didn’t—

She couldn’t—

He—

He sat up slowly. For a moment, he just looked straight forward towards the bedroom door. Was anybody else home? Did they hear? 

He turned, and his eyes drifted down. 

“Mom,” he whined, tears running down his face. “Mom, why did you—” 

He breathed in and climbed out of bed. He knelt next to her. His hands cupped her face, feeling the last remnants of warmth. Her eyes were half-lidded, her mouth agape, and the hair she spent hours grooming every day was soaked with blood. 

“It's okay,” He soothed. “It's okay. I’ll comb it out for you. It's going to be alright. I’m—I’m sorry.” 

He ran his hands through her pink hair, trying to rid it of knots. Her head jerked as he pulled on a particularly tight knot. He shushed her, bringing her head into his lap. 

“I’ve always wanted to comb your hair.” He choked. “Why did you never let me? Why am I only doing it now?”

His grip tightened. “I just wanted to be close to you, Mom. Why did you not let me?”

She could not answer. 

He lifted up her arm and lay next to her. He set her arm down on top of him. He buried himself closer, his head tucked under her neck. 

“This is all I wanted, Mom.” He told her, his voice filled with harsh bitterness. 

“Mom,” he repeated, taking her all in. “I just…”

“Mom,” He was tired again. “I—Why did you—Did I—”

“I really,” He started. “I really just…” 

“I just wanted you to hold me.” Silent tears left his eyes as Wasuke’s voice softened. “I just—was that too much? I’m sorry.” 

He didn't know what to do. He wanted his mom. She would tell him what to do. But she couldn’t anymore. She was dead, and it was all his fault. 

“Mom,” he sobbed. “Mom, I'm sorry. I love you, Mom. Don’t leave me. I’ll be good. I won’t bother you anymore.” 

His mother held him tightly. “What's gotten into you?”

He couldn’t answer. 

“You’ve been crying out for me for a while, Yuji,” His mother rubbed his finger softly. 

His mother brought his finger up to her face. She cupped it tenderly in her large hands and rubbed her cheek against it. Blood dripped from her nose and onto his finger. 

Mom, he shook, Mom.

“Mommy’s here,” She soothed. “What's wrong?”

Mom, he repeated, I missed you. 

She laughed, voice deep and husky. “You must have had a nightmare. There's not one time you’ve ever left my side.”

He shook in refusal. 

The other pieces scattered around followed suit. 

“Oh, stop now,” His mother scolded, her nose continuing to bleed. “You’re a smart boy, so use that brain of yours.” 

Each piece of himself resonated with the other.  For the first time in a thousand years, he was conscious of his whole self. There he was in the Jujutsu Tech dorms, there lay ten of his fingers on the table, and his skeleton sat on the couch. Farther away, two twin girls held his finger in their hands, and a finger that had birthed a Curse. Then, of course, there was the finger his mother held in her hands and—

He lulled. 

“That's right,” His mother laughed, wiping her nose clean. “Do you feel it now, baby?” 

Inside of his mother, in the very core of her being, was a shard of his soul. It was small, an almost unnoticeable slice, but it was there, and it continued to resonate with him. His mother truly was his. 

“Why don't you go back to sleep now?” She asked. “It's not time for you to be up just yet. I still need to get things ready, and then I’ll come and get you. Does that sound good?”

His finger shook.

She kissed his finger. “It's not time yet, okay? Just go back to sleep. There's no need to rush anything.”

His mother always knew best. 

“Goodnight, Yuji.” 

Yuji stared out of the passenger window in silence. After the dream or vision he had last night, he had a lot to think about. Gojo seemed to notice. For the first time, the man hadn't spoken for over thirty minutes. Beyond the soft sound of music coming from the radio and the rumble of the road, there was nothing to be heard. The area around them was lifeless; the only thing Yuji could see for the last thirty minutes was trees. 

He didn't know what to think anymore. 

He didn't want to think, but it was impossible to turn off his thoughts. 

His mother was alive; that seemed to be the biggest revelation on his mind. Where was she all these years? What was she doing? Did she know the truth? She had to; she was in possession of his fingers. Did that mean she was working with those Curses? With Mahito?

He clicked his tongue. 

The next time he saw Mahito, he was going to tear him apart by the seams. He’d reach into those stitches that covered his skin and pull. He would rip and peel away that faux human layer and then beat the rest of him into a thick paste. 

He might kill his mother if she really was working with him. 

No, no, he wouldn't. He doesn't think he could bring himself to do that. He shouldn't be killing people so easily; that wasn't a good mindset to have, and it was his mother. He’d hate her for it, and he probably would lash out if they truly were working together, but he would never kill her. 

Her legs would suffice. Without them, she wouldn't be able to do anything. She would have to rely on Yuji for the simplest of tasks. She would never be able to leave him again. She would never spend time with Mahito instead of Yuji, her son. 

She couldn’t have moved on with her life without him. Mothers don't abandon their children without reason—at least in all the poems and books he read. Motherhood was always described as a purpose, a calling, or something sacred. It was instinctual for parents to care for their children; that was scientifically true. Did she change bodies to get rid of that tie between them? 

If she did, she was shit out of luck. Yuji’s soul had been buried deep within hers. That was something she would never get rid of. They were tied together for the rest of their lives, and maybe even beyond that. 

He glanced at Gojo using his bottom pair of eyes. 

The man kept his eyes on the road. It was one of the rare times he was without anything covering his eyes. 

“What is it?” The man asked, sensing his gaze. 

“Nothing, it's just that I’ve never seen you drive before,” Yuji said. “I didn't think you knew how to drive.”

“I usually get Ijichi to drive me around, but I didn't want him butting in on us. He’d totally just bring the mood down,” Gojo responded, grimacing. He paused before grinning. “Why? Want me to teach you?”

“Like right now?” Yuji turned to look at him. “Is that even legal?”

“Why not? It's not like there's anyone out here to see us!” Gojo exclaimed. He slowed the car down, pulling to the side of the road. 

“I don't have my permit,” Yuji protested. “I haven't even thought about taking the test for it.”

“I’ll teach you from zero then,” Gojo waved him off. He unbuckled his seatbelt, turning towards the other. “YOLO, Yuji.” 

He squinted. “What?”

“You only live once,” Gojo rephrased. 

Yeah, that's what you’d think. 

“People don't say that.” Yuji sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt. “The phrase, yeah, but not whatever you said before that.”

“People definitely say that,” Gojo refuted. “It's actually a very popular—”

Yuji climbed out of the car before Gojo started rambling on. Gojo followed suit, though walking around the opposite side of the car. 

Yuji climbed into the driver's seat and immediately felt awkward. It was disorienting having a wheel in front of him and getting a full look at all the dials behind it. He didn't even know what the levers attached to the wheel were supposed to do.

Gojo leaned over the center console. “Okay, first you have to adjust your seat. It's the same as the passenger seat, just on the other side. Try getting to a comfortable position where you can reach the pedals without straining.”

Yuji did as he said, fiddling with the buttons on the side. 

“It's alright if you have to pull over to adjust this time around since there’s no other cars,” Gojo assured. “Try your mirrors next, it's those little buttons here.”

He pointed to the button on the driver’s door. 

“Angle them so you can almost see your door handle. Then adjust your review mirror, too.” He continued. 

Yuji fiddled with the switches, moving the mirrors nervously back and forth before moving on to his rearview mirror. “Okay, I think I got it.”

Gojo continued, explaining the different gears and their uses, the difference between the acceleration pedal and the brakes. 

“Remember that the acceleration pedal and the brakes aren't just the go and stop pedals.” He said. “Once you take your foot off the gas pedal, you’ll slow down but not stop completely. Oh, and try not to suddenly slam on the brakes when you’re going fast because that can cause the car to go out of control and damage it.”

He walked Yuji through the rest of it, slowly feeding him information on what button did what and what the different dials and symbols meant. 

“Alright, let's start slow now, be gentle on the gas pedal,” Gojo remembered once Yuji was ready to start. 

Yuji nodded, pressing down on the brake pedal and shifting gears. He took his foot off of it and felt the car start to slowly move forward without his input. He guided it into the center of the lane before lightly pressing on the gas pedal.

“Nervous? You’re barely going five miles,” Gojo teased, before shaking his head. “It's a good start. Try going a little faster when you’re comfortable, to like thirty-five kilometers per hour. I think that's a good goal for today.” 

“Alright, thirty-five, I can do thirty-five,” Yuji muttered. “That's basically nothing.” 

The curvy roads made him nervous, but it didn't take him long to get used to them. He reached thirty-five kilometers per hour in less than twenty minutes. 

“Good job!” Gojo cheered. “It's not that hard, is it?”

“It's not!” Yuji exclaimed. “I got the hang of this a lot easier than I thought I would. Sometimes during your lessons, I'm completely lost. I really understood it this time around. It's actually fun!”

Gojo let out a weird sound between a choke and a laugh. “Do you get lost often?”

Yuji hummed, focusing more on the curved roads than Gojo’s reaction. “I mean, yeah. But it's nothing too bad, mostly just the sorcerer history and the Cursed Energy theory stuff. The other subjects I'm fine with. Fushiguro helps me out a lot, actually.”

“I didn't know that,” Gojo responded softly. He cleared his throat. “Why don't you ask questions then? You know I’d be happy to answer.”

“Because I’d have too many.” Yuji stepped off the gas pedal on a particularly sharp turn. “It’d just distract Fushiguro and Kugisaki too much from learning what they need to.  I can't constantly ask ‘What's the Kamo clan’ and ‘What do you mean by flowing Cursed Energy’ when that's like the sorcerer version of learning their multiplication tables. Then there wasn't a lot of time in the classroom with the event, and you were on missions all the time.”

His lower pair of eyes glanced towards Gojo, watching as the man opened his mouth with something to say before closing it. Gojo looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Well, we can go over some technical stuff today. Then I'll make sure I prepare some review material and change the formatting of my lessons.” Gojo said. “I don't want my star student falling behind.”

Yuji snorted, going to cover his face with his palm before he remembered he was driving. “I am not your ‘star student’, that's definitely Fushiguro! I’m definitely lacking when it comes to grades, I know that.”

“But you’re not,” Gojo refuted, leaning back in his seat. “You don't give yourself enough credit. I didn't have a single clue that you felt like you were struggling.” 

“I mean, it's not that much of a problem anymore,” Yuji said. “I get a lot of it now. Todo helped out a lot with the technical stuff, and Fushiguro helped with the history.”

“Right,” Gojo hums, drumming his fingers on the center console. “You and Todo managed to exorcise that Special Grade together. Well, it looks like you did most of the work.”

Yuji laughed awkwardly. “I don't think I even contributed that much to the fight. If you came a bit earlier, you would’ve seen Todo doing the hard hits. I just…I just got lucky near the end, and Todo let me finish it off because of that.”

“‘Lucky’? Alright, we can call it that,” Gojo continued to tap his fingers on the console. “I mean, luck definitely plays a part in it, but you don't hit more than one Black Flash because of luck, especially not one after the other. Most sorcerers die before they manage one, let alone six.”

Yuji kept quiet. 

“It's honestly unbelievable,” Gojo chuckled. “I mean, you only started using Cursed Energy a couple of months ago. You’re pretty talented. How’d you do it anyway? Just a couple of weeks before, you were struggling to control your Cursed Energy.” 

Yuji pressed his lips together, thinking over what to say. He couldn't tell Gojo ‘yeah, it was basically instinct’ or ‘A Curse messed with my soul’ or something. Anything he said could be incriminating. He would say something, something small, that would easily snowball out of proportion before he knew it. 

Gojo wasn't even saying anything too probing. It was normal for a teacher to ask about the things he had learned. Yuji still couldn’t help but think about speeding up and crashing into one of the many trees surrounding them. Yuji’s body could handle it; at most, he would bruise. Gojo was only safe because of the infinity wrapped around his body. Without that, he was just as fragile as a normal person. 

“It was…a car crash.” The so-called ‘Hanako’ quieted. Her words still carried that same gravity, but it was solemn and hushed now. “She was driven off the road by another car. Her car was found on the side of the road, absolutely totaled.”

He held back any visible reaction. He laughed, something plastic and saccharine. “I just did, I guess. Todo explained a lot to me, like I said. He’s a really good teacher beyond all the weird and crazy stuff he says. I practiced a lot when you were out of town, too. I had a ton of time because I didn't have to work on anything physical.” 

There was a pause, then a chuckle. 

“That Todo kid sure is…strange, isn't he?” Gojo smiled before pointing. “Turn there.” 

Yuji slowed down, barely touching the gas pedal as he turned right. 

“Try putting one hand over the other as you turn instead of what you just did next time,” Gojo mimed the action with his hands. “It's smoother that way.” 

Yuji nodded before he paused. “Where are we going anyway?”

Gojo pointed to the building coming up from the horizon. “You see that creepy ass building? That's our destination: Brass No.7! Terrible name, right? I mean, there's no First or Sixth Brass anywhere. They definitely jumped the gun if you ask me.”

Yuji squinted as the building came into focus. It was huge, both in height and length. It must’ve been at least half a dozen stories tall from Yuji’s estimate. It had seen better days; its stony exterior was covered in dirt and vines, and almost every window had been smashed into pieces. As they got even closer, Yuji could spot large chunks completely blown away. 

He could feel the ambient Cursed Energy in the air. It was not heavy, but it wasn't exactly light either. Nothing too strong was around, unless Gojo was counted. Whatever Curses were around, they were only as strong as Second Grade or below. 

“What is this place?” Yuji asked, pulling into the building’s driveway. He hit the brakes and placed the car in park once they reached the front door. 

“It was supposed to be a hotel,” Gojo informed. “But that was way back in the eighties. The whole area was supposed to be developed, actually. But as you can see, it never worked out. It was in due part to the Curses that were born here and the bubble economy popping some time later.”

“So, what are we doing here? Are those curses still here?” Yuji questioned.

“Oh, no, this place has long since been cleared out,” Gojo shook his head. “But the hotel had been repurposed for training exercises! It’ll be just like the Sister School event! I ordered a whole bunch of Curses and scattered them around the building! It’ll be a battle royale!”

“You can just order Curses?” Yuji asked. 

“Yuji, you can order anything if you have the money.” Gojo laughed. 

Yuji stalked the first floor, searching for the Curses that hid away from him. They sheltered themselves in dark corners and small spaces, out of sight and silent. Brass No.7 held dozens of those places, making it difficult to track them all down. Gojo hadn't even given him hints on where they might be besides the unhelpful ‘You know, around’ before shoving him inside.

He entered the kitchen, scanning the room. It was caked with a thick layer of dust and grime. Old, sticky newspapers, woodchips, leaves, and glass littered the floor. It was painful seeing a kitchen like this, especially one that had such nice appliances. The stove had a stainless steel top, the rest of which was red with brass knobs. The cabinets were painted the same red, along with matching hardware. He knocked on the countertops, humming as he appraised the marble. 

It was a shame for a place like this to be left to ruin, he thought, Uraume would have appreciated a kitchen like this, surely. 

The modern day has brought so many new recipes and ingredients. He wondered what Uraume could cook up with so much new stuff available. 

“And if it was?” A hazy memory of a voice pierced his head. He wasn't sure if he had misheard…Hanako, or if she actually said it. 

If he—

He tried organizing his thoughts. 

If he had some sort of plan, one that involved his mother and his finger, that meant it had to involve Uraume. Had they been like him, reincarnated in another body, or had they been sealed into an object like his fingers? 

Had he planned to reincarnate? Was it an accident? 

He squatted down, purposely avoiding touching the floor more than he had to. He opened up the cabinets one by one. He found a Curse, a Fly-head, and hesitated. Rat dropping littered the bottom of the cabinet. He refused to reach inside and risked touching it. 

“Dismantle,” He made a quick swipe with his fingers, barely putting Cursed Energy into it. The Curse was cut in half and quickly vanished in a small puff of fumes. 

Was Uraume in the modern age already? 

Were they sealed away in a Cursed Object, still?

Did they need a vessel?

Were they alive?

“Of course they’re alive,” Yuji muttered, standing up and brushing off his pants. There's no way Sukuna would let them die. There's no way he would let his—Chef, Uraume, was just a chef—die. Uraume was…

He didn't have enough memory to describe them, but there was an attachment, nevertheless. Yuji was greedy; there was no way he’d let someone go easily. He trusted that he was always like that, even a thousand years ago. 

He wondered, suddenly, if Uraume would get along with Fushiguro and Kugisaki. He laughed at the picture. Uraume could never tolerate another, one that wasn’t Sukuna. If he told them to, they would act nice. Maybe they’d like Fushiguro a bit more than normal. He was more reserved and polite, knowing other people's boundaries well. Kugsaki, even if Uraume tolerated them, wouldn't like Uraume very much if Yuji had to guess. She didn't like anyone she deemed ‘stuffy’. But he was also sure she would quickly warm up to them once she tried their food. 

Their food, which often consisted of human meat, Yuji reminded himself. 

He paused in place when it clicked. The food he had just been drooling over was made by someone. What he craved to eat had lived a human life. It wasn't made from a mindless animal. 

He knew it was wrong. He knew that Kugisaki and Fushiguro would be disgusted at the very thought. Who wouldn't? It was common sense to find it gross. He could go as far as calling it a natural instinct. The very last thing people want to eat is someone else. Even in times of famine and starvation, people will choose to starve rather than eat each other. Those who do are left scarred from it. He’s never heard of a good cannibal; in films and books, they're painted as something beyond evil. Willful cannibalism was seen as the ultimate sin, which only the worst of humanity partook in. 

He does not want to group himself with that lot. 

Because Yuji is not a murderer. He's not.

Yuji wrapped his arms around Jupei’s broad neck. He held the boy tightly, his body moving on complete autopilot. 

He twists.

Junpei’s head comes off cleanly and quickly. 

His body falls to the floor. 

Blood coats Yuji's arms and his entire front. It drips down into his shoes. 

Everything was warm—too warm to be soothing. It was like Junpei had been boiling before—Before Yuji—

Yuji—

He sets down Junpei’s head on top of his body. It was the only thing that resembled the boy in the slightest. Everything else was just too foreign, too disgusting for Yuji to even comprehend that it was him. 

He pulls at his hair, shutting down that line of thought quickly. Junpei’s death wasn't his fault. Mahito, that piece of shit, had mutated the boy beyond recognition. It was out of pure necessity that he had done it. He did it quickly and cleanly, not wasting a second to relieve the other of pain. He would have died anyway; that was out of Yuji’s power to prevent. He would make it up to the other with blood. He’d wrap his hands around—

He rubbed his throat and grimaced. 

He left the kitchen, wandering the twisting halls. He kills the Curses he sees, and it is all too easy. He doesn't even need to use his Cursed Technique. A simple stomp with a minute amount of Energy does most of them in. He still uses his Technique out of habit when the Curses are out of arm's reach. 

He spots Gojo a few times. He’s always watching him, Yuji knows that, but he's also hiding from him. He's never in plain sight, always around a corner or watching from a window. When Yuji enters the theatre, the man is already there, watching from the rafters above the stage. If it wasn't for the man’s bright white hair, Yuji might not have even noticed him. It made his skin crawl, knowing that he was being watched. What was Gojo thinking? 

What was Yuji thinking?

His thoughts ran away from him at times. The information seemed to repeat, and it was hard to think of anything new or substantial. How much of his ‘dream’ had he forgotten? Why did he dream in the first place?

She swallowed,  her voice shaky. “But there was no one in the car. At first, she was declared missing. Three weeks went by before anyone was able to find her body. Your father was a wreck—I was a wreck—and he could barely handle it. He followed after your mother soon after that.” 

Followed? Was that right? 

She implied that Yuji’s father had committed suicide. Which wasn't exactly wrong, but it wasn't right either. He could feel his father’s fondness as his mother’s hands wrapped around his neck. There was no struggle, just acceptance for something that needed to be done. It was for Yuji’s sake, he gathered. 

Something was going on, and he didn’t know what. 

Did he want to know? 

He doesn't think so. Ignorance is bliss, and all that. 

All he knows is that ‘Hanako’ had lied about a lot of things—not outright, but she certainly had misled him. 

Her real name was Chi—something. It was on the tip of Yuji’s tongue. It was distantly familiar. Maybe he knew it because of his own memories or some remnants of his father’s. 

Why had he seen something from his father’s memories? What was the memory after that? Yuji had no clue. He was so clueless about everything, and it was so irritating. 

He breathed in and headed up the stairs. 

He rubbed his neck as he entered a bedroom, his eyes landing on the messy bed.  

His mother had killed his father for Yuji, he stressed. His mother had to care about him; he could trust her, then right? She was the only one who held all the answers. There must have been a reason that his father put his life in her hands—why Sukuna did. She knew, and she had some sort of plan. If Sukuna agreed to it, then it must’ve been something that benefited him and, therefore, Yuji.

But if Sukuna was involved, that meant it was probably not very good. 

He bit his lip, drawing blood. 

Something was going on, and it wasn't anything good, he concluded. Nothing that Sukuna touched was good. How had Yuji described himself in what feels like ages ago? A pollutant, right? 

He couldn't trust his mother, not without knowing more. Who was he kidding? Any other line of thought was just wishful and borderline delusional thinking. He wanted to be able to trust her, but it was obvious that she wasn't on the side of the orthodox Jujutsu sorcerers. 

But it wasn't like Yuji is on their side either, a voice chimed in, they tried having him killed. He’ll never be one of them. 

But his friends were, the rest of his classmates were, and he liked them. He trusted them, too. 

If he trusted them that much, why wouldn’t he tell them the truth?

He can't tell them the truth because they’ll hate him.

Your mother knows the truth and doesn't, it shot back. 

Yeah, well, mothers are supposed to love their children.

Did she love him? Was love too strong a word? She abandoned him, left him alone with his old grandfather without even stopping by. Did she think about him? Did she ever wonder how he was doing? Did she care about how he did in school or what his teachers had to say about him? 

Did she care about Yuji or just Sukuna? 

“You’ve been crying out for me for a while, Yuji,” His mother said, rubbing his finger softly. 

Yuji, she said, not Sukuna, not Ryomen Sukuna.

He was reaching, and it was pathetic.

He needed to gather his thoughts properly. 

Wasn't that what he was doing already? 

He was getting nowhere. 

Every single thought seemed to repeat, wrapping around each other and leading back to the same place. How many times had he reached the same conclusion? How many times had he changed his mind? There were still details he was looking over and forgetting. He was always forgetting something—something important. 

He needed to ga—

He stopped himself, running his hand through his hair. 

Right now, he didn't know what side he was on. He didn't know his goals or if he had them. He didn't know if those goals would benefit him, the present him. He didn't know what was going on behind the scenes, what actions were being taken in his name or against him. 

But it wasn't the worst situation to be in. He had a place to stay and food to eat. He had friends with whom he spent his time. He drove a car for the first time today. He was safe; that was the most important thing. He was safe and healthy, and he had time to discover and work things out. 

Right now, he is just Yuji. He didn't know anything about Ryomen Sukuna. He was just Yuji, a boy who attended Jujutu Tech and was on a special training mission under the guidance of his teacher. He was a vessel, just a vessel, and no one would know the truth, and he would be okay. 

He breathed in. “Everything will be okay.” 

He could hear the old floorboards creak down the hall. It was Gojo; he had no doubt about it. His skin already prickled from the man’s Cursed Energy. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and rubbed his face clean with his sleeves. 

“Focus, focus,” He scolded. All he had to do was rid this place of all the Curses that infested it. Then they would go out to eat, and Yuji could go back to his dorm, take a shower, and sleep. 

“Bravo, Yuji, that was all of them!” Gojo exclaimed, sitting down in one of the many seats that faced the stage. He clapped loudly, each one echoing off the walls. Yuji stood center stage after his second sweep of the hotel. He had chased a Flyhead up there, a very anticlimactic finish to the day. 

Yuji turned to his audience of one. “Really? That's it?”

“That's it!” Gojo responded, his claps slowing down. “It sucks that you failed, though.” 

Yuji’s face bunched up in confusion. “What?”

“You didn't learn RCT at all!” Gojo pointed at him accusingly. “That was the whole point, you remember?”

He was really getting sick of the word: remember. 

“How the hell was I supposed to do that?” Yuji threw his hands up in the air. “I defeated all the Curses in the whole building! What else was I supposed to do?”

“I’d thought you would be worn out by now!” Gojo responded. “I hoped that you’d be overwhelmed by the sheer number of Curses! I bought a ton! Like an actual absurd amount! If it were anybody else, they would have been dead on their feet!” 

“Well, I'm not anybody else,” Yuji muttered, his voice carrying through the empty and cold theatre. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Gojo chuckled. “You’re not some regular person. Your strength and stamina are comparable to someone with a Heavenly Restriction. Which is why I was betting on your inexperience causing you to slip up and get hurt. That mid-fight adrenaline would have helped RCT to click.” 

Yuji squinted. “So you only bought Grade Twos and below? Todo and I managed to beat a Special Grade together.” 

He hoped the insult he felt didn't bleed into his voice.

“Yeah, but…” Gojo cut himself off, shaking his head. He laughed to himself before quieting. “Was it boring? Did you need more of a challenge, Yuji?” 

“I guess so,” Yuji replied. He swallowed his spit. 

“Then how about we up the ante?” Gojo stood and strolled into the center aisle. “Me vs you! That should be challenging enough for you, yeah?”

Yuji stood a small step back. “Huh?”

“I’ll go easy!” Gojo exclaimed, holding up his pinkie finger. “Pinky promise, cross my heart and hope to die!”

Stick a needle in my eye, Yuji finished the phrase in his head. 

Gojo and he made direct eye contact. Yuji’s top pair looked off to the side, but his bottom pair refused to look away. 

“I…” he trailed off. Yuji didn't think it was a good idea to fight Gojo, but he needed something more exciting than all the weak Curses he wasted time on. “If you promise to go easy, I guess, I’ll agree to it. Where would we…” 

“How about here?” Gojo laughed. Before Yuji knew it, the man was in front of him, and a fist was embedded in his stomach. “There's no time like the present!”

Yuji flew backwards, crashing through the wall. He rolled to the side as Gojo appeared once more, his foot smashing into the wall where Yuji had once lain. He stood up quickly, blinking before Gojo was in front of him once more. 

“Shit!” Yuji cursed, body twisting to deliver a kick that would decapitate a normal person. Gojo caught his leg with ease, Cursed Energy strengthening his arm. He pulled Yuji's leg upwards, knocking him off balance. Panicked, Yuji used his other leg, strengthening it with Cursed Energy to push away. 

“Nice job!” Gojo smiled, his enthusiasm seeming different this time. It was cockier, maybe a bit sarcastic. Was it because they were fighting, or was Gojo always sarcastic with his praise? “Did you learn that from Todo, too?”

Yuji ducked, avoiding Gojo’s quick jab. “What?”

Gojo’s knee shot out, hitting Yuji’s face. He grabbed onto the man’s leg, digging his fingers into it. Dashed lines appeared on the man’s pants. 

“Dismantle!” Yuij exclaimed, backing away quickly. 

Running away, all he was doing was running away. How far he had fallen.

The cut reached his ankle, trailing up his leg to his hip. It was deep but thin. Gojo paused, but with a simple flex of his leg, the wound was gone. 

“Those pants were designer,” Gojo said with no real emotion in his voice. His eyes were trained on Yuji, like he was some science experiment.

Back then, it was the same. 

Yuji thought of himself being cut open like the frogs in his middle school biology class. His limbs would be pinned down to a silicone mat so he didn't curl in on himself. A scalpel would pierce his flesh, starting at his shoulders, down to his breastbone, and ending at his pelvis. His skin, muscle, and soft tissue would be peeled back to reveal his internal organs. If the one cutting him open was gentle, they would either pin the flesh to the mat or cut it off neatly and precisely. If they weren't as kind, the flesh might be ripped from him. From there, they would poke and prod at his organs, scoop and cut away his fat to get a better view. Removing the organs would follow suit, so they could get farther into their exploration. 

He wondered how deep Gojo was looking and what for. 

What was he looking for? 

What was he still looking for?

He slapped his hand against the wall. Dashed lines crawled up the wall and onto the ceiling, spreading out like spider webs. “Dismantle!” 

The ceiling collapsed, creating a wall between the two. Yuji exited backstage through the side door, entering a long hallway. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” Yuji chanted, running down the hallway as fast as possible. He heard an explosion behind him, and the whole building shook. Was that Gojo or the aftermath of Yuji’s attack? He hoped it wasn't anything load-bearing. He doesn't think the hotel could take much more. He swiped his hand in front of him, cutting the door in front of him down with a quick Dismantle. 

What was his game plan? How does he go about facing Gojo? The man was going ‘easy’ on him, and Yuji couldn't keep up at all. He could keep running, but even he would get tired after a while. He couldn't beat Gojo, not with the sort of power held now. Gojo wasn't going to stop unless Yuji used RCT in front of him. Even then, Gojo—

He cut that train of thought off quickly. He couldn't think that, not now. He trusted Gojo. Gojo wouldnt—he couldnt—

Yuji breathed in deeply, running his hand along the wall to spread out more spiderwebs of Dismantle. He looked behind him, seeing a puff of white hair from underneath the smoke. 

“Dismantle!” 

The walls and ceiling collapsed once more. Yuji raced out of the hallway and into the foyer. Just as he thought he had bought himself time, another explosion rang out. It cleared the rubble. Gojo emerged from the dust, completely clean from any of it. 

Infinity, Yuji recognized. 

“You’ve been practicing hard,” Gojo whistled, surveying the damage. “You couldn't do that when I saw you last. You’ve been growing fast—extremely fast.” 

“So you said,” Yuji responded, preparing himself for Gojo’s next attack. “I’ve had a lot of time to work on it.” 

“I wasn't gone for that long,” Gojo huffed. “You had help, right?”

“I mean, yeah, Todo—”

“You and Todo only met yesterday,” Gojo pointed out. “I already asked around, so don't try denying that. You’re not going to claim you figured out all of this in one day, right?”

Yuji had figured most of it out in one day. But he wasn't going to say that, not when Gojo had such a large amount of suspicion in his voice. 

“I didn't! I wasnt—” Yuji cut himself off, trying to collect his thoughts so he didn't end up saying something dumb and incriminating. “I got better over time. You can ask Fushiguro and Kugisaki or even Nanamin!” 

“With no help?” Gojo pressed.

“I already—” Yuji pressed his lips together firmly, trying to calm the racing of his heart. “Fushiguro’s been helping me. I told you that.” 

“Just him?” Gojo asked.

“Yes,” Yuji stressed. “Just him and Todo. Maybe a little of Kugisaki’s help.”  

“No one special has been visiting you in your dreams?” Gojo stepped closer. 

“I dont…” Yuji clutched his chest. His heart felt as if it was going to tear its way out. How did he know? How did he know? How did he know? How did he know? “What are you talking about?”

“So he has,” Gojo smiled, sharper than normal. “Tell me, what has he been whispering to you?” 

“What are you talking about?” Yuji’s voice cracked as he faked a small laugh. “Who are you talking about? I don't get what you’re trying to say.”

“Of course, you know what I'm trying to say,” Gojo shook his head. “I won’t hold it against you, just confess.” 

Confess? 

Confess!

It was a trap. Gojo couldn't know. He didn't, and he would never. Even if Yuji had to kill him. Could Yuji do that? Could he bring himself to kill another when Gojo was of sound mind? He wouldn't be euthanized like Junpei, but outright murdered. 

Was he strong enough? 

Maybe, if he caught the man off guard—

He was so stupid.

“I…I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Yuji said firmly.

Deny, deny, deny, until the word loses its meaning. 

“Are you trying to trick me into confessing some embarrassing secret?” Yuji followed up, scratching his cheek, playing innocent. “Kugisaki does that to me all the time.” 

“You got me!” Gojo exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. 

Yuji sighed in relief. 

Then, Gojo’s hands were on his shoulder, slamming him against the wall. He choked, biting his tongue. 

“Man, did you really think that?” Gojo laughed in his ear. “Come on, you’re smarter than that, Yuji.”

He coughed, blood dripping out of his mouth and down his chin. He could feel blood pooling at the back of his head. He healed it quickly, hoping that he didn't have a concussion. 

Gojo didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he didn't care. 

He shook Yuji. “Come on, don’t tell me you made a binding vow with the guy to keep quiet. Do I have to force him out of hiding? I never expected the King of Curses to be a coward.”

Adrenaline filled him. His hand shot forward quicker than ever before and landed a clean punch on the man’s jaw. Gojo’s head whipped to the side, and his grip loosened enough that Yuji could escape his grip. 

He ran aimlessly in his panic, despite the fact that the door was right there. But there was no cover outside, just the open road and the sparse, thin trees. Gojo would find him. He would find Yuji inside the hotel, too.

Unless he was dead.

Part of Yuji was hoping the man was dead. It wasn't right to do so, but he did, and he felt no guilt for it. 

He wasn’t, Yuji knew, he was the Strongest of this generation. There was no way he was dead from that.

Did he let himself get hit? Was he just taken off guard? 

He climbed to the second floor, hearing an explosion coming from below. The building couldn't take much more before it collapsed completely. It wouldn't take much more before Gojo caught up with him. 

What does he do? What can he do? 

He had to gather his thoughts and—

He bit his lip, pulling at his hair and growling. Thinking did him no good. It would be easier if someone just told him what to do! 

Like his mother, she would know what to do; she always did.

He continued running, only coming to a stop when he saw Gojo there at the end of the hall, facing away from him. He ducked into one of the bedrooms, hiding behind a corner, and tried catching his breath. He stared forward, wanting to be anywhere but there at the moment. He focused on the painting in front of him: seven musicians on stage, each one playing a different trumpet. 

“Stupid hotel and its stupid theme,” He muttered inaudibly to himself. He was practically just mouthing the words. He gripped his shirt, leaning forward to catch his breath. The fabric tore, but he could not bring himself to care about it at the moment. “Stupid Yuji and—”

He breathed in deeply.

What does he do? What does he do? He just wants to curl up on the floor and cry. 

“Yuji!” He hears Gojo call out from the hallway. “I know you’re there! You can't hide from me, your Cursed Energy gives you away.” 

He kept silent. Gojo’s eyes surely could see him. He wanted nothing more than to pluck them out. 

He brushed his hair back, gripping the roots to ground himself. He stood up straight, peeking over the doorway to see where Gojo was positioned. Gojo was right there, easily able to grab Yuji and pull him out of the room completely. He flinched away, breaking out of Gojo’s grasp with ease. 

I'm not having fun, he was about to say, Can we stop now?

I figured out how to heal myself, was what he was going to follow up with. Can we go home now?

We don’t even have to go out to eat.

I want to go home. 

He’d show weakness if he could convince Gojo. He’d say: I'm scared, I'm really scared. You’re not going to kill me, right? You promise?

Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.

Like he was some child.

Instead, Gojo spoke first. 

“Switch out with Sukuna.” 

“What?”

“I want to talk to him.”

“There's no one to switch out with. You know that! That's always been the case.” 

“It's too abnormal to be true. I know there's some sort of manifestation of him within you.”

“There's not!”

“Yuji, you’re a terrible liar. You already have a physical manifestation of him on your body. Tell me, is he looking at me through those eyes?”

Yuji slapped his hands over his lower pair of eyes. 

“So he is then,” Gojo huffed. 

“Hes not,” Yuji denied, stepping back. “I—”

“Why are you covering for him?” Gojo took a step forward. “What has he promised you?”

“Nothing!” Yuji exclaimed. 

“So you have talked with him.”

“When did I say that? I didn’t say that!”

“You can tell me, Yuji! I'm on your side!”

“I—” Yuji bit his lip. He gripped his hair, already feeling a headache forming. 

“Come on, Yuji, just tell me the truth.” 

The truth.

The truth? 

“I can't!” Yuji yelled, slapping a hand over his mouth. 

“Can't or won't?” Gojo pressed. 

Yuji said nothing. He wouldn't dig himself a greater hole. 

Gojo sighed. “Can’t then. I guess I’ll have to force Sukuna out then.” 

Gojo’s hand reached out as Cursed Energy gathered within it. It grew into a violently bright red ball. 

Yuji backed away, dashed lines spread from his feet, circling the hallways until there was barely any blank space. It couldn't reach Gojo; infinity was already surrounding him. 

He promised to hold back.

Yuji turned around and ran.

“Red.” 

“Dismantle!”

Everything collapsed around them. 

Yuji fell down. Rubble tore through his clothing and skin. He winced but healed himself quickly. As soon as his feet touched solid ground, he continued to run.

All he did was run. 

He was nothing more than a scared little rabbit.

He hated the feeling of being chased.

He hated the feeling of being weak. He loathed it more than anything else.

Another Red was shot at him, hitting the ceiling above him. It tore through the second floor, the one above it, and the one above that one. 

It was weaker than what Yuji knew Gojo was capable of, but it was still able to kill him if he wasn't careful. 

He dodged the rubble, protecting his neck and head as he ran.

He ended up back in the kitchen. In his hurry, he tripped over nothing but air. His hands and knees hit the dirty floor. Dirt and grime already clung to him. He panted, trying to catch his breath. He was getting tired, and his Cursed Energy reserves were already running low. He clenched his eyes shut in another futile attempt to calm down. 

He heard a high-pitched chitter.

His eyes flung open, making contact with a pair of black, beady eyes. The rat chittered again, coming closer towards Yuji. Its mouth opened, ready to bite down.

He yelled in horror, standing up quickly and kicking it away.

Filthy animals that did nothing but spread disease and fleas. They would eat anything, survive off of anything. If there was one rat, there were a hundred more. 

How had Yuji missed them? 

He looked around for the rest and came face to face with a blur of red. He tried dodging, but only managed to lean away. 

The right side of his face was consumed in heat.

He couldn't see out of his two right eyes anymore. 

His ears rang.

He fell down onto the floor. 

He touched his face, hissing as he made contact with it. His eyes were completely destroyed, nothing but mush and tattered pieces of burnt tissue. The right side of his face was mostly bone and muscle. When his hand trailed lower, he could feel his gums and teeth completely exposed because of his lack of cheek. 

So this is the wound Gojo wanted him to heal from?

What a cruel method of teaching. 

He breathed in, focusing past the pain to heal his face. He focused on his cheek first, then his ear, before focusing on his eyes. The skin around his eyes hardened, growing more than he wanted it to. It became a hard, thick plate that stretched from his cheekbone to past his hairline. His eyes grew larger than before, giant in comparison to what they should be.

It was something Yuji was familiar with.

It was something Sukuna was familiar with.

He didn't want it. 

He didn't want it at all. 

He didn't want to have two faces, not now. He liked the one. He liked being able to go outside without being stared at. 

He wanted to live a normal life just for a little while longer.

Just a little longer.

He grabbed it from where it connected at his brow bone and pulled. It held strong. He hissed and braced himself against one of the cabinets. He closed his eyes, imagining the position of dashed lines covering the majority of the hard tissue. He breathed in deeply. 

“Dismantle.”

“Yuji, are you alright? That was—”

Yuji bit into the meat of his arm to keep himself from yelling out. The hard tissue was shattered, and the engorged eyes were destroyed. He grabbed a hold of one of the larger pieces of tissue and pulled. His skin clung to it, but the connection snapped as Yuji continued to pull the piece away. He continued despite the pain, pulling piece after piece off his face. He stuck his hand into the leftover sockets and pulled the remains of his eye, using Dismantle to cut away at the smaller bits.

Needle in my eye.

Once he was done, he healed his face properly and then the bite wound in his arm. He smiled, satisfied and relieved at his success. 

He looked up as he heard the floorboards creak. He stood up quickly, stumbling backwards. He was dizzy from the blood loss and from the pain.

Gojo caught him.

“What was that?” Gojo asked, voice hushed and eyes wide. 

Yuji was really starting to hate this guy.